Was it possible his estimate of Trafford could be correct? and could this seemingly generous and open manner cover a nature cold, calculating, and treacherous? No, no. _That_ he felt to be totally out of the question. He thought long and intently over the matter, but to no end; and as he arose to deposit the papers left by Sewell in his writing-desk, he felt as unsettled and undecided as when he started on the inquiry. CHAPTER XXX. THE RACES ON THE LAWN A bright October morning, with a blue sky and a slight, very slight feeling of frost in the air, and a gay meeting on foot and horseback on the lawn before the Swan's Nest, made as pretty a picture as a painter of such scenes could desire. I say of such scenes, because in the _tableau de genre_ it is the realistic element that must predominate, and the artist's skill is employed in imparting to very commonplace people and costumes whatever poetry can be lent them by light and shade, by happy groupings, and, more than all these, by the insinuation of some incident in which they are the actors,--a sort of storied interest pervading the whole canvas, which gives immense pleasure to those who have little taste for the fine arts. There was plenty of color even in the landscape. The mountains had put on their autumn suit, and displayed every tint from a pale opal to a deep and gorgeous purple, while the river ran on in those circling eddies which come to the surface of water under sunshine as naturally as smiles to the face of flattered beauty. Colonel Sewell had invited the country-side to witness hack-races in his grounds, and the country-side had heartily responded to the invitation. There were the county magnates in grand equipages,--an earl with two postilions and outriders, a high sheriff with all his official splendors, squires of lower degree in more composite vehicles, and a large array of jaunting-cars, through all of which figured the red coats of the neighboring garrison, adding to the scene that tint of warmth in color so dear to the painter's heart. The wonderful beauty of the spot, combining, as it did, heath-clad mountain, and wood, and winding river, with a spreading lake in the distance, dotted with picturesque islands, was well seconded by a glorious autumnal day,--one of those days when the very air has something of champagne in its exhilarating quality, and gives to every breath of it a sense of stimulation.